


Weeping Angel

by LordRebeccaSama



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Chases, Complete, Gen, Murder, POV Second Person, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordRebeccaSama/pseuds/LordRebeccaSama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All she wanted was the money in the safe, but <i>he</i> was there and she wasn't getting out alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weeping Angel

_Run, run, as fast as you can..._

Footsteps light on the ground, you creep forwards, blending into the darkness, and glance around to make sure no one is coming. Fifty more steps and you'll be in reach of the safe.

"You know" Your body freezes. "guard duty is so _boring_." The light flickers on.

You raise up out of the half-crouch you were in and stare down the thin man across the room. He doesn't look so tough: neatly pressed suit and tie, hair carefully gelled back, hands resting in his pockets. Despite the bored look on his face, his eyes accuse you.

"Moriarty," you spit out.

Moriarty smiles and tilts his head to the side. "My reputation precedes me. How nice. Do you know, Cassie, that you're trying to steal from the _mafia_?" He raises his arms and spreads them out, gesturing to the building.

"That was the point of this venture, yes."

Moriarty shakes his head, looking down at the floor. He tsks. "Did you even _THINK_ " He takes a step forward. "that there wouldn't be a guard?"

Sweat coats the back of your neck and dots the edge of your forehead. You've heard the horror stories of what remains after one of Moriarty's little escapades. Strangulation, words carved into limbs, fingers cut off, mangled corpses that can't be recognized except with DNA tests, and those were the tame accounts. No one wants to be on the receiving end of his anger.

"You do know that now that I've caught you, I have to kill you, right?" he asks. His eyes flash dangerously. You swallow the bile creeping up your throat and take a half step backwards.

He steps forward, still gesturing. "It's a shame, really. Anyone who can get this far into the building has some worry talents, but you _did_ kill three of my fellow guards on your way here, and we just don't accept people who do that."

Every step he takes, you take one back, trying to keep the distance between you and him. He stops moving in the middle of the room. Your back is facing the open door and the warehouse district beyond. Cool air hits your neck; chills run up your spine and you struggle to stay still. Moriarty drops his arms and stares at you. You stare back. Who is going to make the first move? His watch ticks break the silence in the room; your heart beat is loud in your ears. You aren't going down without a fight.

He twitches his hand; you spin, feet pounding against the ground, running before you even register it in your head. A gunshot rings out. Pain erupts in your left shoulder. You stumble and grab the bleeding appendage before ducking into an alcove between two buildings.

"Cassie!" he sings, voice echoing. "Oh, Cassie. Where are you hiding?"

You pant heavily, fingers fumbling with the bandage roll in your pocket. You take a deep breath and focus on wrapping the cloth around the wound. Sparks shoot from the wound when you jar your arm too much.

"Ah, there you are," he says, a mocking smile on his thin face. "See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" It's harder to breath. Your throat closes in fear.

He prowls toward you, gun glistening in the moonlight. You shuffle backwards; your hip hits a trashcan. Using your good hand, you feel behind you trying to find something—anything—to use against Moriarty. Your hand wraps around a block of wood and you swing it up, holding it in front of your body, which you've shifted into a defensive stance.

Moriarty pouts. "Aw, you think something as pathetic as a two-by-four is going to stop me?" He laughs. A cruel, grating laugh that makes you cringe. He stops and smiles down at you. "That's sweet."

You don't waste a moment and throw the wood, making him scramble out of the way. Blood pounding in your ears—"You little, bitch." You hear behind you.—and run out the other end of the alley. Where were the rest of the mafia goons?

Your breathes come in short pants as you run down the darkened street. Warehouse buildings loom over you, blocking the moon's rays.

You flounder on the uneven asphalt and just manage to move your arms to catch your fall. The bullet in your shoulder asserts itself and you gasp in pain.

The outside lights of the warehouses sputter on, illuminating the area in a dull yellow glow. Moriarty stalks out of the nearest warehouse shaking his head. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, Cassie. I thought you knew better than to run from _me_." Your hand clenches into your shoulder, stemming the blood flow with minimal success. You stare up at Moriarty as he comes closer. Your vision blurs.

Moriarty steps on your stomach, pressing down, cracking a rip or two. You wheeze, agony bursting from the point of impact where expensive shoe meets skin tight black shirt. The man—no, monster—crouches down, pressing his heel into your abdomen, but then moves his foot over you and straddles your stomach. Black spots appear in your vision and you fight to remain conscious. "Look at that! You tried to fix yourself. Aren't you just full of surprises?" He runs his fingers down your cheeks, wiping away the tears. "I'm going to have so much fun playing with you." He stands up again and kicks your side. Stars exploded in your eyes. You yelp. Something had snapped. Every breath hurts.

"You sick fuck," you gasp out, body curled into a loose ball. Moriarty frowns and kicks your side. Another rib breaks. "Ahh!" Your breaths come in quick, painful gasps.

He crouches down again. "You understand what happens when you cross me?"

You gather saliva in your mouth and turn your head, spitting at Moriarty and hit him right between the eyes.

Moriarty grinds his teeth and wipes the spit off his face. "Heh," he laughs. "I was going to kill you fast. Well...after I beat you into submission, that is." He stands up and looks down his nose at you. "However, I've changed my mind." A loud crack fills the street. He tilts his head back to a neutral position and cracks the other side. You flinch at the harsh sound. "Your death will be slow," he whispers.

You wrap your arm around your stomach and use the other to sit up, pushing your legs to crawl away from the devil in front of you.

"Aww, you think you have a chance."

He takes on a predatory stance and leaps forwards, knocking you back down. He straddles your hips. One hand holds your arms down. The other wraps around your neck, cutting into your air supply.

You struggle, but he presses his full weight onto your lithe frame. "Please...please," you sob, throat tight. The world tilts and black spots appear.

"That's right, beg for me, bitch." Tears cloud your vision. Why can't it be over? It hurts to breath. Please, just make it stop.

Moriarty forces you to look at him. Black spots flicker across the buildings and the monster's face.

"Do you know _why_ I've decided to kill you slowly, Cassie? Do you know why, out of all the ordinary thieves out there that I chose _you_? Do you even care? It's not like it's really important. I'm sure he won't even notice."

"Who?" you force out. The longer he talks, the longer you live. Keep him talking. Keep him distracted. He loosened his hand enough for you to inhale more air.

Moriarty leers. "An old enemy. But he's not important. What is important, is you, because you were chosen for a reason, my dear girl. There was a _reason_ I was the one on guard duty tonight. Do you want to know why?"

You strain to move your head in a nod, even though you're pinned down and your neck is strained against the hand circling it.

"You look like his little _bitch_ of a lab assistant. You have the same...spunk as her, too. Ugh, I _hate_ her, and you're going to die instead."

He stares into your eyes with a blank look on his face and releases the hold he has on your throat. All trace of his earlier anger is gone.

He stands up and brushes off his suit. "Tell you what, I'll give a thirty second head start to begin running." He sneers. "I love a good chase. So, make it interesting, would you? Go."

With shaking arms you push yourself up and onto your feet. One arm hugs your torso and you lean on a light pole for support as you stand.

"Twenty seconds," he sings.

You look at the monster; he taps his watch. You take a deep breath and sprint in the opposite direction. Pain is everywhere. You resist the urge to collapse and drown in your agony.

_You can't catch me..._

Another ten seconds pass. Moriarty steps out of the alley in front of you and smiles. You lurch to a stop and step back in fear. "Think again."

_*FLASH*_

"Carrie Saunders. Age twenty-seven. Died last night. It was called in by the truck driver over there. Well, John, what do you make of it?"

_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> Moriarty has fucking snapped. My first experiment with second person and trying to murder someone. Not the easiest to write, let me tell you. I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> ~Lord Rebecca-sama


End file.
